


Just Want to Sleep

by cero_ate



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cero_ate/pseuds/cero_ate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve just wants to go to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Want to Sleep

Steve wondered how long it would take them to realize he had no intention of surviving. He thought it might be in his file, back from before, during the war. But who knew if that file even survived to this day, or was even updated with the fact that he shouldn’t be leading anything except suicide charges. He wondered how they’d dolled up the fact he’d charged the last Hydra base full speed with no intention of doing anything but being a distraction, and then hadn’t waited long enough to let Howard tell him how to land the plane. He was a mess, and he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about anything after Bucky died. Bucky had been his everything and without him, there wasn’t any point.

He’d almost managed during the Chitauri fight, but his metabolism had defeated his own wishes, yet again. He hated his body for that, and was willing to push himself even further. He could throw himself into the worst of the fights and no one would even notice that wasn’t what he used to do. All of his people, the ones he’d chosen himself, the ones he’d led, were dead. Honestly, he didn’t care to remain here. He didn’t want to make friends, play nice. He’d save the world, he’d protect the world, but he didn’t care to be in the world. He would have laughed if anyone called him a valiant warrior, but he didn’t have the energy to do so. All he wanted was for the long sleep to be permanent. He wanted to go away and melt into nothingness and never wake up.

“You cannot keep doing this, Captain Rogers.” Natasha stopped him, after another mission that he’d barely stopped in medical to check over his wounds, knowing yet again they were not deep enough to get him killed. Who cared about a little pain?

“What do you mean?” He looked at her innocently. If anyone was going to catch what he was doing, it was Natasha or Clint. Looked like Natasha was it.

“Trying to kill yourself,” she said bluntly. “It is not right.”

He didn’t bother to disavow that was what he was doing. He didn’t like lying. “It’s not working anyway.”

“That does not sound like a promise to stop, Captain,” Natasha told him

“It’s not.” He shrugged. He didn’t mean to stop until it worked.

“What would your people say if they knew what you were doing?” Natasha asked him.

“They would say that I’m doing exactly what I’ve been doing since Bucky died,” Steve answered. “They just rosied it up for the press.” He didn’t know what else anyone could have called his charge. Suicidal is the kindest thing he’d think of.

“We would miss you,” Natasha said softly.

“You don’t even know me,” Steve said.

She huffed, softly, disapproving of his flippancy. “We know you better than you think.” 

She did anyway. Although it would take much time to explain how she knew him better than anyone else. Instead of trying without anything to back it up, she left a sketchpad and nice pencils on the pile of punching bags. “Try creation, instead of destruction, Captain Rogers.”

That’s all he was to people now. Captain Rogers. Captain America. Not Steve. He felt like he’d lost himself somewhere along the way. All he was was a soldier. Had he lost what Erskine had asked him to never lose? Had he lost being a good man?

He hadn’t, had he? 

Curling up with the pencils, and paper, he slowly started to sketch, and make lists. Of things he knew, of people he missed. His mom flowed easily out; she always had. Work-worn and weary, trying to make enough for them both to survive. Peggy came easily too, gun in hand, ready to fire on the enemy. Howard, Dum-Dum, all of the Howling Commandos. They flowed less easily, but he still remembered so much about each of them. He had to stop every once in a while to shake the cramps from his hand. He hadn’t done this since….a really long time, no matter which way you looked at it. How could he have let this go this long? 

His fingers drifted into Erskine and Phillips, trying to capture that… something that each man had meant to him. He didn’t notice when his eyes started to water, as he remembered how they had believed in him, and not, letting him prove himself to be what everyone was hoping for. He missed that. That drive to prove himself. That feeling that someone didn’t think he was everything they ever hoped for. He didn’t LIKE the hero worship. He hadn’t done anything really to earn it that thousands of other men had done. He didn’t deserve the accolades they were giving him. Give it to the Vietnam War Vets who deserved it more and never ever got it. 

His hand slowed, almost stopping as he at last came to Bucky. What had always come so easily came hard, slow, the pencil heavier in his hand than he could ever remember it being. Water dotted all over the page, smearing Bucky’s face away, smearing him into looking like faded memories. But he’d never faded into memory, he was always right there. Only he wasn’t now, and that was the problem. It wasn’t Steve and Bucky against the world, it was Steve tired of the world with no Bucky in it. Really, was there a point to it anymore?

He drifted into a dozing state as the pencil fell from his hands, falling back into his memories. Which probably explained why he didn’t notice Bucky straddling a chair at first.

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky said once he had Steve’s attention.

“Bucky?” Steve blinked. This had to be a dream. He stared at Bucky hungrily, re-memorizing every bit of him. 

“Do you think this is any way I want you?” Bucky demanded.

“You’re gone,” Steve answered, helplessly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Bucky closed his eyes and Steve gave an involuntary noise of protest. Bucky opened his eyes again. “I need you to be strong, baby.”

“I’m tired,” Steve admitted. “I just…want to go to sleep.”

“Oh Steve,” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve. “I know. But you can’t. You’re not done. I promise, you won’t be alone, forever. You’re not alone now, if you’d just reach out.” 

“I…but I’ll lose them too,” Steve admitted his fear. 

“But if you don’t get to know them, you’ll be lesser,” Bucky chided him.

“But I won’t realize it,” Steve argued. 

“You will,” Bucky shot back. “You know you will.” He kissed Steve’s temple. “Promise me.” 

“I promise,” Steve said, holding him tight. He wished this was real. But…it would have to be enough. He’d never broken a promise to Bucky before. Steve rested his head against Bucky’s chest and closed his eyes, for just a little while.


End file.
